


A Small Problem

by viridianmort



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Book 4: Harry Potter and the Goblet of Fire, Canonical Character Death, Character Death, Crack Treated Seriously, Fluff, M/M, Mild Gore, Size Difference, We all know who died, but just in case, kind of, not that bad
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-12-22
Updated: 2018-12-22
Packaged: 2019-09-24 16:47:40
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,878
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17104373
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/viridianmort/pseuds/viridianmort
Summary: Something goes wrong with the resurrection ritual and Harry has to deal with the consequences.





	A Small Problem

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Acnara](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Acnara/gifts).



> This is my gift to Acnara for the Tomarry Secret Santa event! I hope you enjoy it ; u ;

Harry landed roughly and would’ve fallen if Cedric hadn’t grabbed him before he could. He steadied himself and offered Cedric a grateful smile before taking the chance to look at their surroundings. They seemed to be in some graveyard close to a small church with a stately home looming on a nearby hillside. It was odd, that the cup would send them here.

 

“Did anyone tell you the cup was a portkey?” asked Cedric.

 

Harry shook his head in response. Even if the cup were to be a portkey, why would it send them here? Cedric seemed to be just as confused as he was, so there was no help there. Harry got the uncomfortable feeling they were being watched and swept the area with his gaze until he noticed someone walking towards them. It was a stout figure and they seemed to be carrying a small bundle in their arms. Harry thought it might’ve been a baby, though he questioned what parent would bring their child out on a walk at this time and in a graveyard no less. He shared puzzled looks with Cedric. They drew out their wands in the case that it was a part of the trial. As the person came closer, a familiar ache prickled at Harry’s scar then shot throughout his entire head. He groaned and fell to his knees at the sudden pain, dropping his wand as he raised his hands to clutch at his forehead. Cedric said something, but Harry couldn’t understand him through the pain in his head.

 

“Kill the spare!” commanded a cold, cruel voice.

 

Another voice — a familiar voice — yelled the words, “Avada Kedavra!”

 

Harry turned to Cedric with a growing sense of horror and watched as a jet of green light hit the older boy straight in the chest. It seeped into his clothes and vanished, absorbed by Cedric’s body which seemed to just… stop. He didn’t blink; his eyes were frozen in a wide stare. Cedric’s last breath released just after the spell hit and he never took in another. Harry felt his heart stop beating right along with Cedric’s when his body dropped to the ground beside him. It was all so quick. Just a moment ago, Cedric was smiling and taking the cup with Harry and now… Harry waited for Cedric to blink, to breathe, to do _anything_ , but he didn’t. Rough hands pulled Harry up and away, but Harry could only stare unbelievingly at Cedric’s crumbled body, still and unmoving like– like the corpse it was. Even as ropes wrapped around him, securing him to someone’s headstone, Harry’s eyes stayed fixed to his fellow champion’s dead body. Harry wondered if it hurt, if in the last second, Cedric remembered Harry’s offer to take the cup with him and if Cedric blamed him. 

 

“Hurry!” urged the same voice who ordered Cedric’s death.

 

It caught Harry’s attention and drew his gaze to a bubbling cauldron. Harry couldn’t remember seeing it before. He did, however, recognize the person who killed Cedric. Harry clenched his fists in hatred at the sight of Wormtail’s face. The man’s list of crimes just grew and grew. Harry felt the blame shift from himself to Wormtail. Of course it was that ugly rat’s fault. He killed Cedric, not Harry.

 

When Wormtail began to unwrap the bundle he had been carrying, Harry’s anger fled and instead dread filled him until it felt like it was seeping from his every pore. It had been three years since he last encountered Voldemort — the real Voldemort, not a memory of him — but the pain in his scar reminded him how it felt to be in his presence. But this Voldemort wasn’t a wraith, he was in a solid form. If one wasn’t paying attention, or maybe if they were blind, they might think it was a baby, but with a closer look, they’d see how grotesque it was. First it looked starved, like a skeleton with scaly, hairless skin stretched over it and the skin itself looked red and raw. The face was sunken and instead of a nose, that part was flat and had slits for nostrils. Most terrifying were its red eyes, the pupils vertical, like a venomous snake.

 

Wormtail lowered it into the cauldron and began the ritual. It required the bone of Voldemort’s father which prompted Harry to wonder what he would do for the ritual if Voldemort’s father had still been alive. Would he kill him and then dissect his corpse for the bone? Harry quickly stopped his thoughts from straying any further, already feeling sickened. The potion turned a rather poisonous looking shade of blue after the bone dust was poured into it.

 

“F-flesh of the servant w-willingly given, you will revive your master,” Wormtail whimpered, his voice filled with terror as he raised a dagger above his hand, the one with a missing finger.

 

Harry wanted to look away, but his eyes were transfixed on the gruesome scene as the knife parted Wormtail’s skin. It didn’t cut straight through like Harry hoped it would. Wormtail had to apply more pressure for the blade to cut all the way through flesh and bone. As he sawed, he screamed, blood streaming down his forearm and dripping onto the grass. Finally the severed hand flopped lifelessly to the ground and Wormtail’s shrieking subsided to agonized sobs. He picked up his hand with a sniffle and dropped into the cauldron, turning the potion a vibrant red. It glowed, too saturated to look like blood, but it was ominous just the same. Harry didn’t realize he was shaking until he shook himself from his trance and began to struggle to get out his the ropes. He wanted to run, to grab the cup and hope it put him back in the maze. He’d rather face acromantulas again than face this, but the cup was by Cedric and so was his wand. The ropes were too tight for him to even breathe properly. His breaths were shallow and came in quick gasps. Harry felt dizzy, so dizzy, but he had to move, to run, to hide. Wormtail was suddenly right in from of him with the silver dagger, panting and moaning in his pain. Harry grit his teeth and shook his head rapidly.

 

“B-blood of the enemy…” Wormtail started, bringing the dagger to Harry’s inner elbow. “Forcibly taken you w-will… resurrect your foe.”

 

Harry squirmed and protested as the blade cut into his skin, and blood flowed, soaking into his robes. Wormtail shakily collected the blood in a vial, and lurched back to the cauldron. After pouring the blood in, the red liquid immediately turned a bright, pure white. Wormtail collapsed to the floor, hugging his bloodied stump and weeping. Harry felt a small bit of satisfaction at the sight, grisly as it was. Then, steam flowed from the cauldron, enveloping the whole graveyard in white. It came to an anticlimactic end as the vapour cleared and the cauldron was empty. Something had definitely gone wrong with the way Wormtail’s breath quickened as if he were expecting punishment. He scrambled to his feet, nearly stumbling as he rushed to peer into the cauldron. He gasped and reached in with his good arm to grasp something inside and pull it out. It was about fifteen centimeters long and moved.

 

“You fool!” it screeched, though the sound was very small.

 

Finally, it registered in Harry’s brain that the thing in Wormtail’s hand, was actually a tiny Voldemort.

 

“L-let me robe you, m-my lord,” stuttered Wormtail. He clumsily set the fuming Voldemort down on the ground, almost causing the dark lord to tumble over and reached for the fabric he had used to bundle Voldemort earlier. His stump was carefully kept out of the way so that he would not offend the dark lord further by bleeding on his clothes. He shrunk the robes down to Voldemort’s size then helped Voldemort into the robe that now looked like it was for a doll. Wormtail cradled his mutilated arm, snivelling as Voldemort paced back and forth.

 

“M-my lord… you promised…” he pleaded, disrupting Voldemort’s mutterings.

 

Voldemort came to a stop and peered up at Wormtail’s arm that was still bleeding sluggishly at the wrist. “I am hardly in a state to fix that!” he snapped.

 

“I-I’m sorry master, forgive me master, please,” he begged.

 

“Quiet. Your senseless crying is giving me a headache,” Voldemort said brutally.

 

Wormtail shut his mouth and instead conjured some bandages to wrap around his injury. Harry felt relieved that he was covering it up. The sight of the sliced tissue and bone had made him nauseous.

 

“The boy,” Voldemort said after a while. “His mother’s protection must have interfered with the ritual… I thought using his blood would have bypassed that. Where is he?”

 

Harry felt his luck run out as Wormtail carried Voldemort over on his palm. The dark lord was seated crisscross, like he was riding on a flying carpet, though Harry assumed it was probably because the position was more stable than standing. He hoped Voldemort wouldn’t order Wormtail to kill him like he killed Cedric.

 

The dark lord seemed content to just stare quietly at him though. Harry started to feel uncomfortable — more uncomfortable than before — but Voldemort finally spoke.

 

“You will take me with you to Hogwarts.”

 

Harry froze. “Wh-what?” he forced out.

 

“There is something I need at Hogwarts and you will take me to go get it,” Voldemort explained. “And to ensure your cooperation, I will have you take a vow.”

 

“What makes you think I will take this vow?” Harry asked spitefully. “I won’t help you, even if you hurt me!”

 

“Stupid boy. Do you think I cannot hurt your friends? Lord Voldemort has many in his service… including at Hogwarts. My faithful servant can easily carry out my orders,” he threatened with a cruel smile.

 

Harry slumped in defeat at the threat. He would never want Ron and Hermione hurt. He knew Voldemort could and would follow through, if not at Hogwarts then outside of Hogwarts. Perhaps, he could try to get Dumbledore’s help… somehow.

 

“Fine. As long as you swear not to hurt any of the students and teachers.”

 

Voldemort nodded after a moment of contemplation.. “I can allow you this. Release him.”

 

Wormtail carefully cut through the ropes that trapped him. Harry wobbled and leaned against the marble headstone for support. He was momentarily distracted by the name on the grave; it read, Tom Riddle. Wasn’t that–

 

“Take my hand,” intoned Voldemort from somewhere below him.

 

Harry looked down to see Voldemort, standing balanced on a snake’s head. Was that snake always there? Voldemort scowled at him, his hand still outstretched. Harry bent over and grasped Voldemort’s hand, and consequently, his arm as well due to the difference in size. Voldemort pretended nothing was wrong and instructed Wormtail on his role as the bonder. Harry didn’t really understand what was going on, but he hoped it wouldn’t backfire on him. Wormtail’s wand tip was placed on their joined hands… and limb.

 

“Do you, Harry, swear to aid myself, Lord Voldemort, in retrieving the object I require from Hogwarts?”

 

“I… do,” Harry said hesitantly, feeling almost like he was getting married.

 

A red, fiery strand shot from Wormtail’s wand and wrapped around their hands. Harry jerked, startled, but he kept his grip.

 

Voldemort nodded in approval. “Do you swear not to convey my presence and current… state to anyone I do not allow you to?”

 

“I do,” Harry said and quickly added, “as long as you, Lord Voldemort, swear not to cause harm to any student or teacher of Hogwarts.”

 

Another strand wrapped around their hands, intertwining with the first.

 

“I swear for the duration I require your assistance, I will not cause harm to befall a student or teacher of Hogwarts,” Voldemort agreed, appearing wickedly satisfied. “And do you swear not to grievously harm me until I no longer need your services?”

 

“I do.”

 

A third strand tangled in with the others, creating a strong flaming rope. It sunk into their hands and Harry immediately released Voldemort, carefully examining his hand for any burns or lingering marks from the magical bonds. They then discussed plans of action for each person. Nagini would head to the Forbidden Forest and wait for Voldemort there. Wormtail would go to the Riddle house and wait for further orders. He was forbidden from telling anyone of Voldemort’s return. Harry and Voldemort would return to Hogwarts. When Harry asked what he should tell Dumbledore, Voldemort told him to tell the truth, just not the whole truth. He was to tell Dumbledore that Wormtail kidnapped him and tried to use him for a ritual to bring the dark lord back, but it didn’t work. He was not to mention that the dark lord was there at all and Wormtail did it all without any urging from Voldemort.

 

With their story ready and everyone set, Voldemort sent Nagini off. At his prompting, Nagini set Voldemort back down on the grass and slithered away. Harry had a morbid thought that if he was the snake, he would’ve just eaten Voldemort instead of listening to his orders.

 

“Now, my wand, Wormtail.”

 

“Y-your wand… my lord?” Wormtail stuttered.

 

“Yes. Where is it? You did not lose it, did you?” Voldemort asked dangerously.

 

“N-no my lord! It is here,” Wormtail said quickly, producing it from his robes and handing it to the dark lord.

 

It was clearly too large for Voldemort to hold, much less wield properly. He had no qualms about hugging it to his body though, seemingly content despite the wand being larger than his body.

 

“Good.. good…” he murmured.

 

Harry watched the scene with a sense of pity, at least he could hold and use his wand properly. Well, when he retrieved it from where it fell.

 

“Should Wormtail keep that for you–” Harry began.

 

“No!” interrupted Voldemort. “It is _my_ wand.”

 

“But you can barely hold it!” Harry protested. “It’s not like we can shrink it down. It’ll ruin the wand.”

 

Voldemort seemed even more defensive at that.

 

“Okay, we can bring it with us, but you’ll have to hide in my pocket with it.

 

“Alright,” Voldemort conceded grudgingly.

 

Harry gently took the wand from him, though Voldemort refused to let go at first. It had a familiar feeling, but not as good as his holly wand. Harry slipped it in his pocket, then just as carefully, put Voldemort in as well. Voldemort went peacefully, but he had a rather grumpy look on his face. Wormtail scurried to put away the ritual supplies.

 

Harry took slow steps back to Cedric’s body and paused to stare at the blank, unseeing eyes. Kneeling down, Harry sighed and attempted to close them, but the eyelids barely budged.

 

“Unless you’d like to rip off his eyelids, you’d better leave them like that,” Voldemort warned from Harry’s pocket where his head peeked out to observe.

 

Harry gulped and quickly pulled his hand back, plucking his wand from the ground beside Cedric’s foot instead. With Cedric held close to him, Harry grabbed the cup and they were whisked back to Hogwarts.

 

When his feet hit the ground, he fell over onto Cedric. He didn’t have to fake the shock as Dumbledore and Minister Fudge came up to him. He tried to cling onto Cedric, but they pulled him away. Harry caught sight of Amos Diggory’s broken expression and followed Moody to his office, unable to stay and watch the Diggorys mourn over their son. Afterwards came a whirlwind of events. “Mad-Eye” Moody was revealed to be Barty Crouch Jr. all along. He tried to kill Harry, but Voldemort quickly appeared and ordered him to escape before he was caught. Oddly enough, Barty was mystified and seemed honoured to have been allowed to see Voldemort in his current… predicament. He tied Harry up before he left as to not seem too suspicious. Not long after Barty escaped with his invisibility cloak, Dumbledore came rushing in with McGonagall and Snape. The look in his eyes was very unlike the genial headmaster Harry had come to know. He could see how the dark lord would be scared of him. He could feel it too, in the way Voldemort sat tensely in his pocket. Harry was quickly released and the real Alastor Moody found in a trunk compartment. Unfortunately, his peg and magical eye were taken by Barty so he had to suffer with being without a leg and eye until he could get new ones.

 

While Moody was taken to the hospital wing, Harry had been ushered to Dumbledore’s office for an interrogation. Sirius was there, which Harry supposed was Dumbledore’s way of trying to give him comfort, but it made Harry even more guilty. There he was, lying to their faces with the dark lord right in his pocket. Harry told his story, carefully leaving out the parts that Voldemort told him to. Dumbledore seemed to know that he wasn’t telling them everything, but when he tried to urge Harry to expand, Sirius stepped in. He ignored Dumbledore’s warning look and told him that Harry needed to go to the hospital wing and that Harry had told them enough. After a brief staring contest, Dumbledore gave in with a sigh and escorted them both — with Sirius in his animagus form — to the hospital wing. He met the Weasleys and Hermione there, but they were asked not to question him. Harry sighed with relief and laid down in the hospital bed obediently. Gratefully, he smiled at Dumbledore. When Madame Pomfrey came in, he was worried they’d inspect him and find Voldemort, but she just handed him a dreamless sleep potion. Harry took it with no complaints and easily slipped into sleep.

 

The next morning the Minister of Magic made an appearance to drop off his prize money. Harry could see how the man eyed him with wary suspicion and realized that the man thought Harry was to blame for Cedric’s death. Fudge was correct, just not in the way he thought. Harry’s guilt weighed even heavier when the Diggorys came to visit him and he recounted their son’s death for them. Their son’s murderer was right there in that room with them, but they didn’t know. They didn’t know because Harry was hiding him. Well, Voldemort technically didn’t kill Cedric, he just ordered someone else to. Harry shook his head to clear away the treacherous thoughts. Why was he trying to defend Voldemort?

 

When he offered the Diggorys the prize money, Mrs. Diggory refused. Harry wish they had taken it. He didn’t want to be rewarding for causing someone’s death. Later that morning when they were alone, Voldemort instructed Harry in casting a privacy charm then climbed out onto Harry’s lap.

 

“Now, we must make our way to the seventh floor,” he instructed.

 

“I can’t leave, Madame Pomfrey will murder me!” Harry argued.

 

“You vowed to help me,” Voldemort said with narrowed eyes.

 

Harry looked away from those menacing red eyes. “Y-you promised not to cause harm to a student of Hogwarts. I’m a student of Hogwarts.”

 

“The matron will not harm you, that is against what her morals are,” Voldemort reasoned.

 

“But she’ll definitely catch me,” insisted Harry. “Just wait a while until she releases me.”

 

“Fine.”

 

Voldemort then taught Harry how to cast a spell on his pocket so Voldemort would have fresh air and would not be crushed if Harry rolled over onto him. Apparently he was suffocating in there and was very nearly flattened when Harry shifted in his sleep the night before. When they heard noises, Harry cancelled the privacy charm and shoved Voldemort rather roughly back into his pocket. After his breakfast was delivered and his privacy charm was back up, he brought Voldemort back out again.

 

“I hope you refrain from doing that again, Potter or the vow will break your neck along with mine,” he threatened.

“I-I’ll die if I break the vow?” he asked, startled.

 

“Obviously. We swore an unbreakable vow,” Voldemort said while gesturing Harry to help him up onto the tray of food.

 

Wordlessly, Harry lifted him up onto the tray, expecting him to explain more. Instead, Voldemort casually picked at a slice of toast, leaving Harry to stare at him incredulously. He had broken off a few small pieces he could handle more easily and finished them off before finally stopping to look at Harry.

 

“What?” he asked impatiently.

 

“You tricked me,” accused Harry.

 

“I did not trick you into anything, Harry. I told you to make the vow and you did. Even if you knew the consequences, you would do it anyway because of the consequences if you did not,” he stated practically.

 

Harry fumed, but he knew Voldemort was right. Absently, he portioned off some of his breakfast for Voldemort, cutting them up into manageable pieces as well as improvising a drinking goblet for Voldemort by transfiguring then shrinking the stopper for his potions bottle.

 

“What are we looking for anyway?” Harry asked after swallowing a bite of toast.

 

Voldemort looked up from his bacon which he was delicately eating as not to dirty his hands too much. Harry thought to shrink some cutlery for him next time.

 

“I cannot tell you. I know where to find it, I just need you to take me there,” Voldemort said.

 

Or maybe not. Let him suffer. Harry huffed in disappointment but continued with his breakfast.

 

They continued in this sort of manner for another few days, sharing meals and then Voldemort hiding in his pocket when Harry had visitors. Luckily Hermione brought him some books which Harry then proceeded to shrink for Voldemort so that he could entertain himself instead of threatening to kill him each time he urged Harry to escape the hospital wing and was refused. The longer they stayed in the hospital wing, the more impatient Voldemort grew.

 

Soon Harry was released, much to both his and Voldemort’s pleasure. He was withering away in there and it was made even worse with Voldemort’s harassment. Many of the nights, Voldemort had snuck out from his pocket and jabbed at him until he woke up only because the dark lord was bored and couldn’t read without light. Harry’s sleep was suffering. He needed to get Voldemort to leave as soon as possible, so he looked for an opportunity when he could slip away from Ron and Hermione.

 

He got it the day after being released, when he skipped out on dinner to be on his own. Ron and Hermione tried to convince him to go with them, but he told them he needed some space. Ron left with a pat on his shoulder and a promise to bring him back something. Hermione gave him a worried hug and followed after Ron. As soon as they stepped out the portrait hole, Harry pulled on his invisibility cloak.

 

“When did you get an invisibility cloak?” Voldemort asked from his usual spot in Harry’s pocket. With just his head out, he looked like a tiny pet snake.

 

Harry couldn’t help but to poke at his head. Voldemort hissed death threats at him, but it was enough to distract him from his question.

 

They made it to the seventh floor without running into anyone, though even if someone passed by, Harry was invisible anyway. Harry couldn’t understand why they were on the seventh floor, he would have thought that Voldemort would’ve wanted to go to the Chamber of Secrets. When he asked him this, Voldemort went oddly silent.

 

“There is nothing there for me anymore,” he replied, then went quiet again.

 

Harry furrowed his brows, not really sure what Voldemort meant by that.

 

“Here,” he spoke up when Harry reached a tapestry.

 

“You want… this?” Harry asked unsurely.

 

“Not this, you idiot boy. Pace in front of the empty wall opposite here three times while wishing for a place to hide things,” he instructed.

 

Harry did as he was told and surprisingly, a door appeared.

 

“What is this place?” Harry asked as he opened the door up.

 

The room was full of clutter and looked like it needed a good cleaning. It was probably what a hoarder’s house looked like. Harry stepped further into the room and pushed the door closed behind him.

 

“If my memory serves me… it should be that way,” Voldemort said.

 

Harry followed Voldemort’s guidance until he came across an ugly chipped bust. Voldemort pointed to the pile of things on which it perched and loosely lodged in there was an old tiara.

 

“That. Give me it,” Voldemort ordered.

 

Harry carefully pulled the tiara out, and held in front of Voldemort. “Do you want me to shrink it so you can wear it?”

 

“Of course not! Now, deliver me to the Forbidden Forest.”

 

“It’s almost the end of the feast. Ron and Hermione would expect to see me in the dorms...” Harry hesitated. “Besides, don’t you want something to eat before you go?”

 

Voldemort looked annoyed, but allowed Harry to return to the dorm. He did want to fill his stomach a bit before his journey.

 

Ron and Hermione came with food as promised. Harry told them he’d eat it later when he had more of an appetite so that he could feed Voldemort in the privacy of the dorms behind his bed curtains. Harry stayed with them in the common room for a while, allowing himself to relax around his friends. With how much time he spent entertaining Voldemort and with what went on this year, Harry felt so isolated from them. He just missed his friends.

 

Harry excused himself when he started to feel hungry, knowing Voldemort must’ve felt hungry too. He drew the curtains around his bed and put a sticking charm so no one could open them then put the usual privacy charm. Guilt rose in him again at how much he had lied to Ron and Hermione lately and yet how they stuck to his side so loyally.

 

“Are you done moping? I thought you wanted to have one last dinner date with me,” Voldemort said with an evil curve to his lips.

 

“Date? What? I didn’t… You murdered my parents!” Harry exclaimed, horrified.

 

“I know. I was there, Harry,” Voldemort said slowly.

 

“This isn’t a date.” Harry said vehemently.

 

“If you say so.”

 

The horrified look still didn’t leave Harry’s face. “Do you… want this to be a date?” he asked tentatively. As terrifying as the idea of dating the dark lord was, Harry didn’t want to hurt his feelings. Which was even more terrifying.

 

“Of course not. I’m going to kill you after all,” said Voldemort flippantly.

 

“Right…” Harry murmured.

 

They started their feast in silence. There was a plentiful spread of a couple rolls, slices of ham, a sausage, green beans (probably courtesy of Hermione), and a coveted piece of treacle tart. At this point they had collected a full set of dishes and utensils for Voldemort, all shrunken down to use for his leisure. The dark lord was very appreciative of this since Voldemort did not enjoy eating with his hands and making a mess of himself. Plus it made it easier to slice the food into even smaller pieces that would fit more easily in his mouth. As they ate, the earlier awkwardness was forgotten and Harry even graciously shared his treacle tart with Voldemort.

 

It was long after they finished eating and everyone else had gone to bed that Harry and Voldemort snuck out under his cloak. The trek down to the Forbidden Forest was a little nerve wracking, more so than when he’d sneak out with Ron and Hermione. It might’ve had something to do with the dark lord in his pocket. They ventured in, not too deep, but far enough in that Harry couldn’t see the lights of the castle when he looked back. Surprisingly, Nagini knew exactly where to find them. Harry wanted to question it, but he knew Voldemort wouldn’t want to answer. Harry gently lowered Voldemort onto the ground and handed him a pouch. Voldemort had taught him how to put an extension charm on it so that they could put Voldemort’s wand and the tiara — which he found out was actually called a a diadem — inside. They couldn’t shrink the pouch much due to worry for the objects inside, but it was small enough that Voldemort could carry it like an overly large satchel.

 

“You’ll be okay on your own?” Harry asked nervously.

 

Voldemort raised a hairless brow. “Do you worry something will kill me before you can?”

 

“No, it’s just– just in case the vow decides to kill me still if you get hurt.”

Voldemort hummed in response, pulling his cloak a bit tighter around himself. Well technically it was Harry’s cloak, shrunken down to fit him, but it was not like it could be returned.

 

“I will remember this. Lord Voldemort always rewards his helpers,” he said before allowing Nagini to pick him up with her tail and slither away.

 

Harry felt a vague sense of melancholy, but he couldn’t pinpoint why. Perhaps he was longing for that bit of treacle tart in Voldemort’s stomach.

  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  



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